


A Brighter Shade

by Clonidine



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-01-26 01:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12545832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clonidine/pseuds/Clonidine
Summary: Celebrimbor can lie if need be, but he is no traitor. A re-interpretation of Shadow of Mordor.Spoilers, obviously. Plot will diverge. Like, severely. Will cover all major story developments eventually.





	1. Banished From Death

"Talion?"

  
With a sudden inrush of sensation, his sight was shifted into the muted, blueish tints of the wraith world. Time seemed to move more slowly here, and the trees and mountain pass around them went dark as the sleeping outline of Lithariel and the blue flame of her flickering campfire a few dozen steps away shone through. Celebrimbor rarely did this on his own, though he could. They had quickly found that it was disorienting in combat, and had developed a system of motions for Talion to signify his intentions to the elf, who seemed to feel the motion in their shared body. If he did grant his sight to Talion on his own, it was usually to signify the outline of a scene before they would enter it - key elements in the strategy that Celebrimbor had already formulated and wanted him to enact. This time, though, he could merely spot Lithariel and her small campfire in a few dozen feet's distance. A moment later, the wraith appeared next to him.  
  
"Before we continue our journey to Queen Marwen, there is something we need to discuss. I have not been entirely forthright with you at our introduction." He began, gazing expactantly at Talion - who, in turn, looked bewildered. "... whatever do you mean?" He asked slowly, as Celebrimbor seated himself next to the ranger.  
  
"When I told you that we were connected by the manner of our deaths, I shortened the tale to some extent. It is time that you know all I can tell you." The elf began. Something in his tone made Talion wary even as he nodded in agreement - this was more than one of his usual history lessons.  
  
"When the Black Hand killed your family and you at the behest of Sauron, his purpose was to conduct a ritual to summon me. To bind me to his own form, that I might serve him. Sauron had suffered a great setback in Mirkwood some time before. Doubtless he wished to recoup his strength by adding mine. But after the summoning, I recognized an opening in the dark magic that was meant to bind and compel me."

The wraith crossed his arms and leaned forwards, his face close enough for Talion to study the long, ragged lines where dessication had cracked his cheeks open. "They underestimated me. Though I did not know who I was, I knew they were my enemy, and I understood the twisted words they worked. To theirs, I added mine. I reforged the ritual's purpose to bind me to your body, not that of the Black Hand. Thus I am also the author of the magic that traps us together, Talion - not just the Black Captains." Celebrimbor paused. "Now that our chance of making a change in Mordor grows greater than ever, I feel that you must know this before we proceed."

  
".. what?" The ranger took a moment to process all this - then he shook his head, more confused than angry, and even withdrew a little from the elf's dead visage. He had never dealt with wraiths and black magic before, and his head was spinning as he tried to discern the meaning of what he had just been told. But there was one dimension to this that he suddenly understood very clearly. "You mean - you lied to me."  
  
"You must understand - I had no other way to resist the ritual-"  
  
For maybe the first time, the ranger interrupted his ancient companion with utter confidence. "But _why_ did you _lie_ to me about it?"

Talion felt anger slowly rising in his chest, an anger he did not know he still possessed as a dead man. In the wraith world, his voice felt smaller than it should have, dissipating across the dim, endless plane of spirits like a raindrop in the sea - though he hadn't been loud to begin with. Even though the uruks might disagree, Talion had never been possessed of a roaring, blistering anger - that was all Celebrimbor working next to him, his rage refined into the icy-hot wraith flame that consumed the darkness. Talion felt it, but it was not his. No, his wrath was much more subtle, welling up quietly until it erupted with unexpected force. But in the end, it was no less destructive.

Did Celebrimbor sense as much? It gave the elf pause for a moment before he spoke again. "I did not wish to seem like I was forcing such a fate on you, though my own hand was forced also, and I felt I had had little choice. So I ... simplified the tale. It was enough to take in even as I told it back then." He finally said, quietly, even looking a little apologetic - though that was hard to discern with him. "But I waited too long to correct this convenient story. It has been many years since I last had dealings with any living thing. I apologize for the deception, Talion."  
  
Was that enough? It helped, a little, even though he would need time to truly understand what he had just been told. And to understand that his ghostly companion had bent the truth to be more convenient to tell ... that was no small matter, even though his reasoning seemed understandable. For now, Talion wanted to believe in him. Wanted to - even as another treacherous thought crossed his mind.  
"Alright. Maybe I can forgive that deception. But ... if this is partly your magic ... if you were the one to draw me into this, could you not release me? Could you not release me now, that we've killed the Hammer?" His voice had quickened as he spoke, now it made room for utter silence. But it was a demanding silence, thick with hope and tinged with despair. Hope that his durance in the living world might end soon, despair at the premonition that it could not be this easy. "Have I not earned my rest by now?" Talion whispered after a long moment.  
  
Something shifted in Celebrimbor's visage at those words. But he wasn't surprised. He must have expected such a question. "... I have thought much about that. Not a day has passed where I did not." The wraith eventually answered, with a weariness that he rarely showed this openly. "You have suffered greatly, Talion, and the Gift of Man should be yours by any means. Releasing my hold on you would surely be the death you seek." Talion's heart turned to stone in his chest as he finally recognized the odd change in the dried, cracked face. It was pity. The elf was taking _pity_ on him. "But the Black Hand was chanting the spell. The power of the ritual still rests with him. I can almost hear his voice calling out to me. I fear that if I undid my part before his death, his original intent would be fulfilled, and I would be drawn to his side."  
  
Talion laughed abruptly. It was a bitter, painful sound, as aching as the smile that went with it. And yet not nearly as bad as the realization that had overtaken him. "So ... you could release me, except you could not, for then all our work would be undone." He closed his eyes. Celebrimbor had been right - more than right. This was too much to hear even now. He wanted to hear no more. But of course, Celebrimbor answered.  
  
"Worse than that: Sauron would be more powerful than ever in this age. I could not hinder him if I became bound to him, for he would leave me no other choice than the one he desires. The truth is that I need you to save myself and Middle-Earth from Sauron's return, Talion. And I cannot truly say for how long." The wraith leaned toward him, but Talion, with his eyes still closed, averted his face, and Celebrimbor froze. For truly, what could he say? He had suffered the death of a great many of his kin, the disgrace of his ancestral name. He himself had been tortured and eventually killed by one he foolishly trusted, his city and all his works destroyed by his own blindness - and yet, he could not quite claim to share Talion's lot. For one, he had never been a husband or a father - so what did he know of the pain the man felt, being seperated from his wife and child? Ever since Nargothrond, his fate had been about mistakes: Not reliving the mistakes of his ancestors, and then frantically, helplessly trying to undo his own mistake with Sauron: A guilt-ridden master smith, playing at war. His fate here in Mordor might be cruel, but it was ultimately just. But Talion? Nothing in his fate was just. What had been done to him was insult to the idea of justice. When the man eventually turned his gaze back to him, he found Celebrimbor silent.

 

"Just for how long do I need to keep walking this black and cursed road ..." His voice was choking, though he did not cry - in his eyes dwelt a sadness that was beyond tears. Talion looked to him, looked for answers. And Celebrimbor had always had answers since they had known each other. To himself, he would have said that every day in Mordor was a day he could hope to drive back the darkness. That even a small victory might improve the lot of the free people - and even if that was unlikely, would cost Sauron time and work to recoup losses that he could not turn to his pursuits outside Mordor. He had given himself this answer many, many times, and he believed it. Hopeful or not, this was both his doom and his chance at redemption.

 

But for Talion?

 

Celebrimbor had no answers for him that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always had the impression that Talion was a fairly gentle soul with the potential for sudden, unexpected violence - not the type who'd shout first in an argument. Celebrimbor is closer to what little we know about him from the books, here - notably, he never married.  
> The tone will get brighter soon, but I felt that I need this to set the stage.
> 
> Would be terrifyingly happy to hear feedback - this is my first serious fanfic. I have a rough idea where I want to go with this, but feel free to suggest things or just generally ramble about the games or LotR.


	2. Walking the Road

"Two more days of travel, and then we'll be there." Lithariel looked up to him, the pale morning sun shining on her yellow hair and expectant smile. Talion found it difficult to return the gesture with any seriousness - his head was still heavy with what Celebrimbor had revealed to him the night before. "Good. I look forward to meeting your queen." He finally smiled back as he spoke, but it _ached_ , and he needed his military discipline to even keep walking. How much longer would he need to keep walking, fighting, dying - just so this land didn't become even worse than it already was? Even he realized his black mood had shown on his face, but Lithariel made no mention of it as they broke camp and began the next day of their journey.

Already one could see the shift - from the blasted plains of Udûn to the lush fields of Nurnen, the difference could not have been greater. Trees had sprung up since yesterday, and the bushels of the hardier kinds of grass were ever-growing in number. Even the sun seemed to be growing livelier as it rose over the hours, no longer hidden under a veil of choking smog and volcanic dust. If he had been here a week earlier, Talion would have felt alive for seeing this - now it just made him feel more like a dead man, walking among the living. Was this how Celebrimbor felt?

  
  
"... you gave our people great hope, you know?"

  
  
Talion blinked. It wasn't that he had forgotten about Lithariel being there - he had just been too preoccupied with his own feeling to notice that she'd slowed down to speak to him. "... how do my actions matter to you in Nurnen?" He replied. All he could think of having done was killing orcs, and there seemed to be no end to them.

  
  
"I already told you, Ranger - when the Gorthaur fell, news spread like wildfire. And it did not just reach me. Slaves whispered it to each other, and it arrived in Nurn in a matter of days. Just a week after the first rumors, the Queen had two dozen able-bodied refugees at her doorstep, ready to offer their lives in our fight against the orcs. Most of them had freshly escaped their masters, inspired by your deed. That was when she sent me to find you. We expect many more to come out of their hiding places in the wilds." For a moment Lithariel cast him a gaze that was both grateful and quite stern in other ways, then her smile returned. "I don't presume to know your mind, ranger, but don't forget that to us, your fight means something."

  
  
Somehow, Talion wasn't sure if he was being thanked for being inspirational, or scolded for not matching up to expectations, but perhaps it was that juxtaposition that made his smile come out much more  genuine the second time. As they continued their journey, Talion eventually began speaking - he pointed out a few herbs he recognized along the road, and asked if they were common in Nurnen, and Lithariel was happy to indulge him. She was quite talkative, in fact - when they next made camp, she'd been in the middle of telling him about a daring rescue mission she had commanded, infiltrating deep into enemy territory to break out a handful of captured soldiers. It had been a success, but only barely.

  
  
"A risky prospect. You stood to lose a force twice as large as the original patrol, as well as an important officer." Talion noted cautiously. Lithariel shook her head quite insistently. "Hardly so, Ranger. What kind of leader would I be if I didn't stand up for every single man under my command?" She laughed, suddenly looking quite pleased with herself. "I'm surprised, though. You seemed hardly the type for cautious planning and careful commitment of your thin resources. Or was your blowing up the Gorthaur a low-risk operation, strictly for military advantage?" Her voice had a teasing lilt to it, and Talion suddenly felt reminded of his own son. She was young ...

  
  
"There's a difference between you and me. I can expose myself as much as I need to. And the men I led had little to loose. You though - you're heir to a kingdom, are you not? You need to fight to inspire your men, but you also need to survive to keep doing it. If you die-"

  
  
"Enough! Now you sound like my mother ... eugh." She twisted her face as if she'd just stepped in caragor dung, but she was still smiling. "She's going to like that. Maybe I'll just drop you off at the throne room and you two can talk tactics like true, stodgy old adults until the mold grows all over you. No worries, though - I'll just take care of all the fighting."

  
  
Talion frowned slowly, but smirked at the same time. "Careful. Or this 'stodgy old adult' might just try if you're as daring with your sword as with your mouth." She laughed, and they spent the rest of the evening preparing food over the campfire, trying to one-up each other with battle stories.

  
  
Maybe he was imagining it, but Talion thought he could hear the wraithly voice at one point.

  
_I like her._  
  
It sounded approving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lithariel has no patience for anyone's immortality-related angst, Talion.
> 
> The story needed some fluff after that intro. Serious AU-ness will probably begin with the next chapter. Thinking about making it primarily Celebrimbor PoW - opinions?


	3. Seen from Wraithly Eyes

Celebrimbor watched as Talion and the young princess made their way deeper into Nurnen, having purposefully withdrawn his presence into the wraith world. Talion needed room to recuperate now, needed to remember that there was a human life that he could fight for, and an elven wraith would not help him there. Safe for the occasional glimpse to check on their progress, Celebrimbor was content to follow them along the way from his wraithly watch, except for one new oddity ... bits and patches of color were creeping into his view: Some objects, seemingly at random, losing their otherworldly sheen as he observed them. At first, this puzzled him to no end. He had always been able to see into the wraith world, even as a living elf, and could not recall ever perceiving things like this ... and it certainly wasn't something inherently strange about that bushel of Blue Milk, Lithariel's sword (well-made for men, but ultimately quite ordinary in every way) and that stray dog that had surprised all of them on the second day of the journey. Even he had been impressed - if only by the fact the dog had survived this land at all. But that was no reason why he would note the auburn color of it's coat when he wasn't looking through Talion's eyes, and he spent much of his time on the trip deliberating on these things. As far as he knew, nothing was not grey from this world.

  
The answer to this enigma came when he noticed a commonality between the three - or rather, it was revealed to him when he finally gave in to curiosity and borrowed Talion's sight for a moment to check. Only the blade was still there to see, but it was wholly identical when seen from the eyes of the man. And thus he knew: All of them were significant to Talion, and what he had been seeing were the man's perception of the three objects. As soon as he realized that, he _knew_ : Talion's family had owned a loyal, red-coated dog back in his childhood days. Blue Milk was the first useful herb Talion had learned to recognize when training as a ranger. And Lithariel's blade hade some superficial similarities to the first sword Talion had ever learned fighting with, if not the one he used today.  
How odd that he should know such things, but he knew them to be true. No - he had gleaned them from the mind of the ranger without even meaning to. Similarly, but wholly unlike when he forced knowledge from the mind of an orc. Oh, Manwe ... for a moment, Celebrimbor concentrated on only his name, and watched as Lithariel's sword lost it's lively sheen and faded into the dullness that befell all common items when seen through wraithly eyes. It was him, he realized - he'd become so used to Talion's presence next to his own that he had been intruding on these little details of his memory without even noticing ...  and that felt intensely wrong, like a betrayal of trust. But he had not meant to-

  
No. That was no excuse. Their union was something wholly new, true, but it surely fell to him to keep the boundaries within it. Talion was a man - learned by the measure of his people, but impossibly young in his eyes, and, most of all, he knew nothing of wraiths and thought-speech, nothing of ringlore and black magic. Perhaps those foreign memories had seeped into his own because he himself was still lacking some - and, having been worried, his spirit had moved just a little closer to the man's, connecting in some places. Celebrimbor had been a wraith for so long, time had whetted his mind to a fine point with little room for flourishes. Like a blade that was kept sharp by careless hand, the engravings became dulled as the edge was preserved. _When we met, I remembered that it was Sauron who killed me, and I knew that he betrayed me, and I knew of the black magic his lackeys wrought. But I could not say how or why ... and in confusion, I acted rashly and carelessly._ He'd righted that mistake, but Talion's spirit still had to pay a price for it. It was his duty to regain as much of his lost mind as possible - to become as close to his living mind as he could to avoid future mishaps, and also guard himself against intruding on Talion's memories by accident. It was a rare trust that bound them together, and he would keep it sacred, Celebrimbor vowed in the silence.

  
The heirlooms they had found had helped him - even if the immediate memories they recalled were sudden flashes, full of sound and fury, he could tread along the individual images later, retrace the engravings they had left in his mind. He had recalled much, but not all - some things still eluded him to his endless frustration. He knew he had tried to continue the war from within Mordor, that he had gained the One and apparently cowed many of the orcs into following his lead, even if he did not recall if it was just by show of force or more than that - but the One had the power to dominate, even literally. He would certainly have gone so far and used it himself, Celebrimbor judged - for what had he to fear? Staining his soul in the eyes of Mandos? Laughable when it was already stained with the death of a kingdom! He almost regretted that he could not raise an army now, even though he wanted the One gone with it's master - or rather, the master with the ring.  
Yes. To dispose of the accursed creation - and he wished nothing more fervently than that! - he would have needed to win the Orodruin, and he had apparently not done that with his last attempt. But about that ... how had he lost the second time? Had the One abandoned him? Hard to fathom with a ring that had known two smiths ... he did not know, and though he could guess as much as he wanted, it was idle conjecture where knowledge was needed. He had to remember. There were more heirlooms still, this much he knew within himself. Maybe the Queen of the Shore held one of them herself. The most painful memory would also hold the key to finally setting things right. Not to repeating mistakes, but to _fixing_ them, for maybe the first time since the march from Valinor.  
  
  
It had been a while since the ring-smith had last deliberated with this much intensity - usually he only did so when he waited for Talion's body to reform, as his companion might have need of his advice or power while he was up and about, and Talion did not sleep. But he had been content to leave him in the care of Lithariel for the time being, returning to a diffuse presence gathered around the silver towers and his human companion. Space was nothing and time was _almost_ nothing when seen from the natural state of a wraith. Place was a mere feeling, and time, if by anything, was measured by the passage of thoughts and their strange alternations, not the celestial lights. It took a major change in the makeup of the wraith world around Talion to return Celebrimbor's attention to the now-and-there. It was Nurnen, he even recognized it - even if he did not recall what he'd been here for. Supplies, maybe - few other areas of Mordor grew anything worth harvesting. But ... it was not Nurnen itself that had drawn his attention. Between the trees and around the rocks, covering a great expanse, was wispy, ever-shifting fog. Except that the wraith world had no natural climate of any kind - this one had been cast, with the intent to decieve and discourage, hide the place and even shift the path under one's feet. Acting almost on instinct by now, Celebrimbor appeared by Talion's side, coalescing into the semblance of a body. As he drew close, he saw something deep inside the fog react - subtly, but he was not easily tricked anymore.

  
"A magical veil, cast by a master." He noted with quiet apprehension, and turned his gaze to Lithariel, who did not see him. "Her queen stays hidden behind misdirections, allowing only wanted guests to approach." Talion somehow seemed relieved as he spoke, which puzzled Celebrimbor. "'But be wary, Talion. It may not be black magic, but such power does not belong to men. There must be more to Marwen than a human queen. And she has already seen both of us." The ranger just nodded, and Celebrimbor chose not to ask just why he'd seemed so relieved at first. There was a strange new power in Mordor to meet, and he trusted in Talion to keep his wits about him.  
  
The Queen of the Shore, or so she called herself. It remained to be seen what she truly was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly exploratory/background-setting for some of the metaphysics-related ideas floating around my head. I do hope it's still interesting to you!
> 
> Can you spot what's going on at the end?


	4. Queen of the Shore

Walking through the dewy, deep green grass of Nurnen on a rainy morning was strangely normal. Even more so when he knew that even as he was passing between mossy rocks and scattered trees, he was also walking through a powerful enchantment that Celebrimbor had judged as beyond human ability. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him after that comment, but Talion thought he noticed the occasional oddity from the right angle - the barely trodden path between their feet seemed like it wanted to shift or roll up, and he was almost certain that that tree used to be on the other side a moment earlier. And wasn't there something about the sky ...? He'd never seen clouds break the light like that.  That just wasn't right - even though he was hardly one to complain about unnatural things. The ranger cast a quick gaze to Lithariel by his side, but she just grinned, apparently used to this.

"Don't worry. It always acts up a little bit, but you'll get there as long as you're with me."

"If this is acting up, I don't want to know what it looks like when it's serious about keeping us out."

Lithariel laughed. "Last time the orcs tried to get through, they walked in circles for days, fighting among themselves until mother's guards put them out of their misery. They say most of them became insane, but how would they really know with orcs?"  
_Well, that was nice to know._ At least Celebrimbor was back - it was idiotic given that they were bonded together, but he'd been starting to worry where the elf had gone after last week. Not for the first time, Talion wished for the ability to speak in thoughts as Celebrimbor did so often - he wondered if he or Lithariel had offended him somehow, but he didn't want to ask right now. Not when they had an audience with the queen ahead.

 

  
Queen Marwen, it turned out, did not have a castle - her residence was a network of caves, and the first guardsmen they passed were posted a few minutes in. They gave Lithariel a curt salute before returning to their stoic vigil, grey cloaks concealing them against the rock.  
"Labyrinthian even without the spell. I can see why she chose this place." Celebrimbor noted - speaking without his form being present as he inspected his surroundings. From inside the spell, his vision was no longer obscured, but he could still clearly feel the power permeating these caves. He would not want to fight in this place if the spell was turned against him, and he guessed the Black Captains thought the same. After all, it was still uninvaded. Which made Marwen all the more puzzling - who was she, to keep men imbued with the power of Sauron at bay?  
They made quick progress through the passages, and raw stone was gradually replaced with tapestry, weapon racks, and even iron gates and the occasional stairway hewn into the rock, though very much unlike the meticulous labor of dwarven craftsmen. Celebrimbor also could not help but notice that most of the guards were wearing a mishmash of weapons and armor, some clearly converted from plundered orcish items - powerful as she was, the Queen of the Shore did not have much iron for her smiths to work. When they reached the gate to the throne room, he readied himself. Soon he would know what the queen truly was.

  
"Talion- don't be misguided. My mother may be frail at this time, but her mind is sharper than any blade." Lithariel said as they stood before the gate - and before the ranger could really consider her words, she pushed the gate open. "Lady Marwen, Queen of the Shore."  
Inside was a large chamber, the rocky walls almost completely covered by tables, wooden boards and shelves - strewn with maps, books and scrolls, small and large pots containing unknown mixtures,  a few glass instruments that looked distinctly alchemical, even an astrolabe. One corner hat a large, iron kettle atop a fireplace, with a multitude of dried herbs hanging close by. And amidst all that, along a short path laid out with carpet, was a wooden throne. A ghostly blue fire was burning on the brazier next to it. And on that throne was _Marwen_. It took Talion a moment to believe he was seeing a living woman - in the flickering blue light of her brazier, the queen appeared like a creature of fable. She was withered and ancient, old in a way that Celebrimbor was not, a skeletal hand clutching the large golden staff at her side, her blue robes and rich gold jewelry seeming like funerary dress. Her bright eyes were cloudy, and was not sure she could see him as he approached her throne alone. But as he drew closer, he realized those eyes were focused square on him - then the queen swayed in her seat and smiled, even as Lithariel rushed to her side to support her. A moment later, she spoke.

  
"The fallen ranger, from the Black Gate! Come closer."

"Your daughter claims you have something for me."

"Not for you, Talion. The hour grows late ... smoke rises from the Mountain of Doom, and the last hope for Mordor comes to me for help ..." Her smile broadened.

 

 

"For that is why you have come, have you not - the Silver Hand to drive back the darkness?"

Celebrimbor did not know how he would describe this sight to Talion afterwards. Marwen was human - but at the same time, she was not. He did not recognize the bright, shining being sharing Marwen's throne, but he was beyond doubt on it's nature, even if it was wearing the guise of an old man. He had seen Melian once, early in the first age, and he had seen Sauron plenty of times. This one was like them, except not quite - diminished compared to Melian, and not as radiant as the Deceiver in his fair form. And here in the wraith world, while he could still hear Marwen, the voice of this being pushed her into the background, deep and dignified. And despite all previous misfortunes with the maiar, Celebrimbor found himself drawn in, all the questions he had momentarily silenced, his thoughts slowed to a crawl as the words reverberated in his mind.

"Very soon, the dark lord and his army will march all over Mordor. But your greatest power can be awakened to prevent it. Breach into Morgoth's Scar. Take what is yours from the ghûls. And find the dwarf. He will guide you."

The queen sunk back, but the maia did not. He remained seated, waiting - and Celebrimbor stepped closer.

"I have given you one of your memories now, Celebrimbor, and in time, you will have all of them. I have a proposition for you, and I ask only that you listen to it when you return. Our mission is the same. Together, we could even achieve it." The maia said, smiling graciously. His form began to shift. "I cannot talk to you for long while the queen is thus - inconvenienced. Go. Find your memory, and when you return, I shall have more time to talk."

 

  
"... that is not quite what Marwen said to me." Talion mused. They had left the queen's hold and swiftly made their way towards the cave network where she had sent them. Or rather ... _they_ had sent them. As they were nearing the entrance, Celebrimbor had manifested, and they were slowing down to walking to discuss their somewhat differing meetings in the throne room. "And you're saying she is ... posessed by something akin to Sauron?"

  
"Not quite like Sauron, but the same sort of being. Sauron too was but a humble servant of the Valar before he turned traitor." Celebrimbor explained - he'd never had opportunity to ask just how far Talion's education on those matters went, but he'd proven quite knowledgeable for a man thus far, and they were always too pressed for time. "Given the guise of this being, I believe he is one of the Istari - the five wizards. It was long after my time alive, but they arrived from the West as agents of the Valar." The wraith paused. "One of their number was occasionally seen in Mirkwood, but he works mostly through animals. Their leader, Saruman, is said to be especially learned, and cunning beyond measure - maybe that is our man, or maybe Gandalf, of whom I know little. Either way I can attest that one of their number has had eyes in Mordor for the last few decades at least."

  
"The message we found?"

  
"One of his sources, no doubt. I've seen others like this one before."

  
"How? I believe you, but ... how _do_ you know all these things from after your death?" It felt quite rude to ask, but Talion had wondered for a while and finally couldn't contain the question in himself any longer - and Celebrimbor actually didn't seem to mind very much.

  
"Well, I did not pick up their lost messages and read them as we did now. But before I was joined to you, I could occasionally reach into the mind of an orc when they passed benath my towers. Their are brutish and often simple. easy to read with some practice. Over time I learned that a _sharku_ , an old man, had cowed a few them into doing some spywork on the side. Most thought him to be an intermediary of Sauron's, or even Sauron himself in disguise. They are a superstitious lot ruled through fear and misdirection, and it seems our wizard is adept at exploiting this." Celebrimbor's bemused smirk was not a pleasant sight, but Talion had grown used to it. "As for the affairs of the outside world - I dared not spy on the black captains and his other clever servants directly, but even they have to send missives to each other, to keep abreast of how Saurons war goes. Those go through orc messengers - and that way, they reached me. Staying current about Sauron's plans for the rest of Middle-Earth was about all I could do on my own, but I dare say did it well."

  
Right - good. It was unlikely that anyone had fed him false information through that way. Ugh, why was he even considering that? His head was spinning enough already. Talion stopped dead for a moment. "Well done, then ... but if this wizard is willing to use an innocent woman as frail as Marwen for his purposes, can we really trust him not to be that? Either Sauron's ally or evil himself?"

 

Celebrimbor thought about that for a moment. "Disturbing, but possible. He would not be the first to be corrupted by the enemy, just like Sauron was before. But at the same time, we do not know the true nature of their bond. This is a desperate time for the free people, and we cannot afford to refuse possible allies in this fight, Talion. If this memory turns out to be the great asset they promise, I would like to talk to them again."

  
Talion nodded. Privately, even thought heirlooms had reminded Celebrimbor of power he wielded before, he wondered what kind of power could be so great as to turn the endless tide of orcs. But he was willing to be surprised.

"You and me both. Let's dance with those ghûls."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aand there it is - the revelation of our little quiz from the last chapter. Hope you're not too disappointed at the rather ordinary reason for Talion's relief.
> 
> I switched to a more back-and-forth kind of perspective, because this chapter was a natural candidate for it - let me know if it's too confusing to read. I also fiddled around a little with Marwen's words to Talion - I like to believe I have my reasons, but that remains to be seen. For comparison, this is the original version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmBtUyEckOc
> 
> I do plan to finish this, and I do plan on somewhat-monthly updates - however, I also just finished university and having a job might slow me down. Only a bit, though. I do have the power of nerd rage on my side.


	5. A Familiar Tool

Sneaking, it had turned out, was like fighting: It was one of the few things that became much easier for dead men. Talion had little need to draw breath if he did not speak, and Celebrimbor's ghostly sight kept him clear of dangers and outlined a path he might otherwise have overlooked in the pitch-dark caverns.  
  
Ugh. Not breathing also had the distinct advantage of sparing him most of the overbearing stench of what had to be a whole hive of ghûls, all crammed up in the large hollow known as Morgoth's Scar. He had no intention of stirring up those creatures - dying never became any less unpleasant no matter how much practice he had, and a ghul population this large might tear up the whole countryside if a big fight stirred them into action. A few times he startled and bolted when he almost roused a group of the disgusting little creatures, but after a swift and silent journey he managed to reach the delirict underground complex that connected to the caves. What purpose these rooms had originally served, he might never learn - Celebrimbor had only vaguely spoken of the ruins that they occasionally saw throughout Mordor, and Talion was not certain if it was for lack of memory or because they reminded him of previous failures in the war against Sauron. Still, by the looks of it ...  
  
"A treasure room. Your heirloom must be here." He said quietly as he strode on, and _felt_ Celebrimbor agree - it was like the elf was nodding to him, even though he did not speak, and Talion could not see him. It was an element of their bond that had only slowly risen to his attention - in battle, this kind of understanding was intuitive and natural among fellow warriors, and neccessary to fight side by side, and it was precisely the absence of this feeling that had worried him during the week-long journey to Nurn. It had taken this week of silence to realize he even had this sort of intuition with the wraith when they were neither speaking nor standing side by side. But Talion did not worry, now that Celebrimbor was with him again - far from it. He was long past the point where the presence of the dead elf beside him felt frightening or even foreboding, and he had found little grounds to be angry with Celebrimbor even after the fateful revelation - they were both victims of the Dark Lord, and there was solace in not being alone in this land.  
  
Eventually, he found what they were looking for - resting on some sort of rack mounted on the wall. "Is that ... a smith's hammer?" He asked, and Celebrimbor took form next to him.  
"It is my hammer ... gifted to me by the Dark Lord himself." The wraith seemed apprehensive as he grasped for the tool, and Talion, without thinking, raised his own arm and took it. It was surprisingly resistant to his grip, as if the stainless, shining metal had somehow bonded with the rusty iron it was mounted on, so he pulled harder. Then the hammer became light, and his own arm shone in a ghostly light, adorned with strange armor-  
  
_Then he was Celebrimbor. Hammering out impurities in a ring of shining adamant. Setting a bright red stone in ring of gold. Raising a strong, long-fingered hand adorned with a ring of sapphire towards the sky, to be greeted by a triumphant howl of the wind ..._ _And then he was Celebrimbor, in counsel with his cousin - or aunt, as he called her when she annoyed him. This time though, was dire, and they both welcomed the presence of family. We have been betrayed, she said with nothing but sadness, and he agreed. He knew Sauron would come for him first, and gave her one of the Three for safekeeping ..._  
  
A shrill shriek in the distance brought him back to the present. He was on his back, but hastily stumbled to his feet. The treasure room around him was suddenly alight with bright fire from all torches, and the ghûls were in open disarray. But their fear would turn to hunting frenzy any moment when they realized what had happened ... wait. "What happened?" He shouted, already checking the route they had entered - now crawling with ghûls all over. Damn it!  
"There is no time. The storm has risen. This way!"  
Talion could hardly argue with that, and made haste for the other exit. Darting up sheer cliffs and vaulting over ledges was commonplace for him now - so much so that it was relatively easy to dispatch the ghuls that were daring enough to come to close and hardly slow down. But even so, the swarm just kept growing ... fast enough to overwhelm him if he didn't run for it. And he didn't much like that giant shape in the distance there - far too reminiscent of a dread thing back in Udun that had killed him more than once ...

"Is that a matron over there?"  
"Yes, and we must make haste. With me."  
As Celebrimbor gave him a subtle nudge, he obliged - moments later, the cold presence of the wraith washed over his body as Celebrimbor pulled him through the wraith world to skip over a solid wall of ghul bodies before him and drag them closer to the exit. This much, he had expected - what he didn't quite expect was the elf appearing them right next to the ghul matron! Oh, he could see the beast quite clearly now, even though he was not yet in control. Celebrimbor was going for an opening strike ... and he held his hammer now. Just as Talion was still wrestling with the fact that the wraith had somehow picked up and kept the artifact, Celebrimbor was smashing the blunt end of his hammer into the ghûl matron's skull: A a wave of fire and light erupted from the strike, and the sharp crack of broken bone was almost drowned out by the uproar of devouring wraith-flames. Smaller ghûls went flying toward the walls left and right, their bodies bright alight. And the matron, though not dead, was stumbling backwards, blinded and burning from the light and clutching at her injured head.

  
"I thought it wise to take my hammer with me. But it seems I lit these torches when I awakened its power once more." Celebrimbor noted drily as he withdrew, and Talion almost groaned - only the fact that he was still running from a horde of angry ghuls and facing a matron stopped him from actually making that sound. "A little warning next time, maybe?" He quipped back as he dove in and rammed his sword deep into the creature's chest, then hurried back before it's vicious backswing could hit him. Not this time!

  
The blast had weakened the beast, but it was not yet down - not that he strictly had to kill it. But now that the hive was this incensed, the death of the matron seemed like the best way to keep them containable. "How often can you do that? Because I could use some more fire soon!" Talion asked as he readied himself for a second quick strike - not easy to do when small ghuls were constantly swarming out from behind. A pair of sharp, sticky claws grazed his right leg before he could dodge, and with a curse, he whirled around, cutting the lesser ghûls down in a wide circle. Instead of a straight answer, Celebrimbor borrowed use of his arm to dispatch a volley of knives toward the next incoming group - no fire for now, then, but maybe time enough. Grunting, Talion once more sped towards the injured matron, easily dodged a heavy sweep in his direction, and threw his full weight behind this next swing.  
  
With a wet slicing noise, his blade liberated the creature's head from it's shoulders, and both collapsed on the ground, still blistering with wraith-fire. Talion wasted no time celebrating this victory, though - the chorus of feral shrieks and little claws scraping the ground behind him made clear that the newly orphaned brood was not happy, and he started running again. Not the first time he fled from a dangerous cave after finding a new tool in their fight, but the hammer was definitely useful. Not quite the reversal of fortunes their war might need, but as he came closer to the exit in leaps and bounds, Talion tried to take the hopeful view. He could already see daylight. Maybe Marwen and her mysterious partner had something else in store for them ...  
... just as the ghûls, who must've circled around him, because they were now dozens and dozens of them, covering the last room before the final exit in hungry glowing eyes and feral snarls. Too many to fight with just bow and sword. Maybe Celebrimbor could-

  
"It seems that more fire is already under way." Celebrimbor somehow sounded amused as he said that, and then Talion saw it too - burning barrels rolled down the slope, and a jovial voice with a thick dwarven accent was calling out to him.

_"Take cover, ranger!"_

Instead of an answer, said ranger sprinted upwards - only moments before the explosion behind him both took care of the ghûls and propelled Talion forward with a violent blast that felt like a battering ram against his back. Groaning, he looked up ... what was a _dwarf_ doing out here in Mordor?

 

* * *

  
  
"He is an odd fellow for a dwarf." Talion concluded after Torvin had lured him to his hunting camp - with the promise of the chisel matching the hammer, no less - and then been on his way, as if saving rangers by use of explosives was normal for him.

  
"Dwarves are not all miners and craftsmen, Talion. And even those who are are hardly all the same stoic folk most men or elves can think of in these days. I am glad that he so easily relinquished his claim to my hammer, however. Holding it again opens some paths I had not thought about before." Celebrimbor was slowly weighing the item in his hand as he spoke, studying it with an unreadable expression. The wraith paused for a long while before finally taking his eyes off the hammer and gazing into the distance. "Turann is its name. It means gift ... when Sauron first approached me, he was bearing  this hammer as a gift to me. It is a fine tool, for war but more so for crafting."

  
"You are worried." Talion said, and Celebrimbor abruptly looked up toward the ranger. "That nothing good might come of using it again?"

  
".. I am. I should not be, I think - this hammer forged a great many things, and even three rings that are forces of protection against Sauron, uncorrupted by his hand. But still, you are right ... I _worry_ , Talion." Celebrimbor's glowing white eyes were locked on the ranger. "What might come of me taking up the hammer once more? Can I trust in my craft again?"

  
Talion needed a moment to answer. "I am but a humble ranger captain, Celebrimbor. I know nothing of the curses that might be hidden in this hammer. But ... I believe if anyone can create good things with this hammer, it is you." He cleared his throat. "They - the wizard and maybe Marwen too - they must want you to make something for them. That is why they would send us here."

  
Celebrimbor nodded slowly. "Indeed ... and thank you, Talion. Your trust means more than you believe it does. And I trust in your judgement." He gripped Turann tighter. "We shall hear what they want me to forge, and together, we will decide."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What - a chapter with straightforward narration? And action? From me?
> 
> Eru forbid. Alas, I did it anyway, though the action elements were a struggle. 
> 
> I'm sorry that I moved the AU-whammy to the next chapter again, but I wanted to show this version of Talion and Celebrimbor on a canonical mission. But I promise - Chapter VI will show clearly just how crazy my plan for going forward is.


	6. The Wizard and the Queen

It was not long after they approached Marwen's hold that Lithariel intercepted them. "Ranger!" She rushed past the ranks of the guards and slowed down only at the last moment. "... with me, if you will. The Queen wishes to see you this instant."

  
"Is your mother not well?" Talion asked as Lithariel lead them into the bowels of the mountain - just as they passed out of earshot of the pair of guards posted in front of the narrow corridor they were passing right now. He didn't know this path from their earlier visit - the mountain hold appeared to be quite large on the inside.

  
"The queen has not been well for a long time." Lithariel replied with an unexpectedly icy edge to her voice. "But she is stronger than when you last met her. My men liberated some lost herbal remedies from the uruks and they have helped." She added more softly a moment later. "I appreciate your concern, Ranger. Now, memorize the way here. If all goes as planned, you'll be seeing these rooms a lot more often."

  
"And where exactly are we headed?" He thought he could make out blue lights shining around the corner at the end of the tunnel.

  
"The forge." Lithariel sounded suddenly bemused as she said it. "It appears you are a man of many talents, ranger."

 

  
It was _a_ forge - singular, Celebrimbor noted, because this workshop could occupy one master smith and two or three assistants at a time, certainly not more. It was reasonably well equipped for the circumstances, but would have been average by the measure of this era had it not been for the handful of odd tools amid the normal hammers and tongs - implements Celebrimbor recognized, but was fairly certain no other smith within hundreds of miles would even know how to name, much less work. This was a small town smithy mixed with a wizard's workshop. He would have to ask how Marwen had gotten hold of some of these items ...

  
 Right now, though, there was something even more distinctive about the forge than the odd toolset: It was bathed entirely in the ghostly blue light of the queen's witchcraft - some of her braziers were carefully positioned across the room, alight with magical flame that drove all shadows from the room and gave it an eerie, unreal look. And in the center right next to the anvil, leaning heavily on her golden staff, stood Marwen herself.

  
Talion took a long moment to inhale at the sight of all this, and Celebrimbor found it oddly endearing how the human still had such distinctly living reactions. He coalesced into his phyiscal form to accompany him - and heard a second human gasp in wonder. A moment later, he was gazing at Lithariel in quiet puzzlement. Right - she would be able see him in the sorcerous light ...  
  
"Oh, child ... I told you he was not alone." Marwen chuckled. It was a thin, cracking sound, casting strange echoes through the tiny room as she turned to Talion - who just now turned away from the sight of Lithariel and Celebrimbor looking at each other. "Come closer, you two ... there is someone who wishes to speak to you. But you need to take him off my hands for a moment."

Slowly, and only after a careful nod from Celebrimbor, Talion approached. Slower still, he held out his hand for the heavy golden staff. Just before he accepted it, he wondered how the queen would support herself without it. Then he touched the handle and felt a torrent of invisible weight rushing down on him like a flood wave. He gasped and stumbled, felt Celebrimbor rush to his side to support him-

  
  
And suddenly, things were quiet, and he could stand again. The raw stone walls of Marwen's hold had been replaced by something entirely different, some strange vision cast by the sorcery that was now a permanent part of his existence. Talion found himself staring at a large - no, at a _monumental_ chamber; the ceiling was so high that he could barely see it. The entire room - the ground, the walls - was fashioned from some strange, black stone that gleamed as if meticulously polished. In the center of the chamber was a small pedestal with a black stone resting atop. And behind that pedestal, one long-fingered hand hovering over the stone, stood the wizard. He was an imposing figure, an elderly man dressed in flawless white robes and with a regal cast to his features. In his left, he was holding a large black staff of jagged black metal. He was smiling. Talion steeled himself. This ... man, or spirit - for Celebrimbor's explaination of the details did not quite make sense to him - had his own reasons for speaking to them, and he would be wary of anyone willing to risk Marwen's life like this wizard did.

  
"And so we meet at last. Saruman bids to you his greetings, Celebrimbor, King of Eregion and greatest of the Ringsmiths. And to you, Ranger of Gondor. It is high time we met. You have suceeded in your search, and now we must make use of your powers of creation."

  
Absolutely, yes! A decisive move was needed before they lost the advantage. Talion was ready to spring into action as soon as the wizard explained what precisely needed to be done. It was only because of Celebrimbor stepping forward that he didn't ask for precise orders right away - and a moment later, bewildered, he tried to shake off the strange spell on his mind. Was this what all the wizards did?  
  
"And what do you need me to do, cunning one? I may be the greatest smith remaining in this age, but I can scarce imagine a weapon or trinket so powerful as to turn back the full might of Mordor, should Sauron be able to marshal it."  
Now that he had talked to this maiar once before, Celebrimbor found it a little easier to resist the spell of his voice. Was it intentional influence, or simply in Saruman's nature to bend the mind of those around him? An obvious choice for leader of the White Council, certainly ... but what were his intentions for them? Saruman did not waver at his question.  
  
"I believe you already know what I will beseech you to make, Celebrimbor. One day, it will be inevitable." Celebrimbor's features hardened. Did he mean to suggest-  
"But today need not be that day. For now, I merely ask that you help me and the noble Queen Marwen keep Sauron's next army at bay by whatever means suit you the most. Surely, you have noted that there is a greater power at work in Nurn than mere human sorcery - that is my power, bound in the staff I gifted Marwen when she came seeking my aid. It is by the grace of my power that she still maintains the kingdom of Nurn."  
  
"But it's killing her!" Talion shook his head almost violently. His head felt strange and he did not at all believe he'd really shaken this Saruman's influence, but for the moment, his thoughts felt clear as a blade's edge. "She may die, and her kingdom with her if you continue like this!"

"I agree. She is too frail to continue this way." Celebrimbor said firmly. "Killing the Queen cannot be in your interest if your desire to help is genuine."  
  
"Do you believe that I did not know this? That her eventual death did not enter my considerations?" A soft hint of thunder was rolling behind the wizard's words, but his mien remained cordial. "The staff was meant for my Istari brothers, should they seek to invoke my guidance on their quests. Giving it to Marwen, wise as she is,  was a measure of desperation. Our alliance delayed the dark lord a great deal, but it was bound to fail in time. The girl Lithariel is not fit to take the crown and the staff, and the kingdom would have fallen under her leadership. I had thought of our fight against Sauron as a losing battle for some time ... no matter how deeply we strike him, he will always reform. All I hoped to achieve was delay his next strike for three, maybe five years more." Saruman paused for a moment. "But now, Ring-Maker, you have entered the stage ... and many new things will become possible. The first of which could be a new phylactery for my power in Mordor, if that suits you as a test of your talents. Help me replace the staff with something else, and Marwen will again be the women she once was."  
  
Silence. Talion's moment of anger had passed, and as long as Saruman was not speaking, his thoughts were not bound to follow his words - or were they? What he said seemed ... reasonable, even if he suddenly doubted the sincerity of his own thoughts. It was sad that he had been willing to accept Marwen as a neccessary loss, but if it was possible to avert such a thing ... "Can it be done?" He turned to the wraith.  
  
"It would be a daring endeavor with the material at hand. Even with the plans I presume you can offer, such a thing has not been done even at the height of the first era, where greater smiths than I were walking this land." He stepped toward the palantir. "If we had another one of those at hand, I could combine the designs ... but we do not. If we make do with what is at hand ..." Celebrimbor locked eyes with Saruman, for once not afraid of his persuasive powers. "It would need to be stationary. I can not improve on your design without sacrificing mobility. In return, Marwen would be relatively safe ... and I imagine the fraction of your power she can channel would be greater than it is now. Maybe enough to delay Sauron's armies." His expression tightened. "Do you swear to uphold Marwen's kingdom with all the power you can muster, and use all the tools at your disposal for this purpose? If we are to undertake this work, I will accept no less."  
  
Saruman bowed smoothly. "You have my word, Ring-Maker. Once your working is complete, my thoughts will be with Nurn every day, and I shall oppose Sauron with all the powers I can afford. It will not bring his defeat, of course, and we will talk again about that." He smiled cooly. "But for a temporary measure, it is more than we have done in decades. When you are ready to beginn work, take up the staff again, and I will offer you my designs on the question. I believe you will find them quite illuminating."

 

* * *

 

  
Then the vision faded, and Talion stumbled to his feet as the weight of the staff had almost dragged him to the ground. Marwen smiled sympathetically at him, then took it back with surprising ease before leaning on it once more. Sighing, Talion looked around the forge.

  
"I guess we have our work cut out for us ..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing that peeved me most about SoMs portrayal of Saruman was that ... really, he's just gonna try and brute-force things? Are you sure we're talking about the same wizard?  
> Not that he is never willing to go for brute force, but it's crucial to note that this is his second choice where persuasion fails: He only attacks Gandalf when he turns down his offer of allegiance. And consider how much of a numerical and technological advantage he builds up before laying siege to Helm's Deep: For all his grandeur, Saruman is obsessively making sure he has every advantage before he gives up on a diplomatic approach.  
> Where exactly will a pact with the wizard lead them? Honestly, I'm not truly decided - I've a few more boxes I definitely want to tick with this fic, but the ending is quite open at the moment.  
> There will be no last minute co-protagonist betrayal, though. I promise.
> 
> For the next chapter ... well, I tire of doing talky scenes, so I'll aim for more action. Also, don't discount Marwen herself. She has her own head and her own dangerous ideas inside it.
> 
>  
> 
> On a more personal note: Yes, I'm alive! I've started working in March and been busy with managing all kinds of annoying life-related things (I hate real life. It's the worst!) so progress has been slow. I can't say when the next chapter will be out, but I'll again be reading and replying to your comments. :)


End file.
